LOST
by A.K.Rai
Summary: Not the most creative title I know. Holmes and Watson are traveling to America when their ship sinks, now they lost on an unknown island having to fend for themselfs, how will they survive? A story of strong friendship Please read! FINISHED!
1. ship wreck

Disclaimer:None of the characters are mine! Like I say to my friends when they find something of theirs is missing, I am only borrowing it, without asking or intention of giving back.

Anyway this idea is a cliche I know, but it would appear that no one has done it yet, so I thought I would take the liberty.It starts out quite boring, but keep reading I promise it gets better! I hope you enjoy!

It was a sunny day in the middle of April, and even London with all its fog and tightly packed houses, could not hide the beauty that radiated through the spring air. As I strolled down Baker street it cheered me to see the family's picnicking on the green, and the friendly faces of couples as they past by. I could not help however, but feel a slight dread oppress upon my heart as I gazed up at apartment 221b. I had not seen my friend Mr Sherlock Holmes for a week now, and having checked the agony column every day with devotion, I surmised that consulting detective did not have a case at preset, for no scandal of any nature had presented itself to my attention.

Therefore as I took out my key and opened the front door, it was in full expectancy of finding my room mate in the mist of what he liked to call his 'black mood'. Walking upstairs and across the landing, I could not help but give a deep sigh before turning the handle of the living room door. I peered inside, awaiting the scene with baited breath, but was surprised to see that Holmes was not there at present. A faint scuffling noise in the direction of his bedroom told me that he was, at least, at home.

"I'll be right with you Watson" came the familiar voice, which I was happy to hear, was tinged with the excitement that came only from a case.

"How did you know it was me Holmes?" I asked.

"My dear doctor, only one man to my knowledge has such a distinctive step" came his slightly muffled reply. "And" he said now poking his head around the door frame "since I gave Mrs Hudson her annual leave yesterday, only one person could have entered the house, being the only other, save myself, to have the key".

"You gave Mrs Hudson leave Holmes?" I said, deciding that it would not be wise not to comment on the simplicity of his reasoning, as this tended to lead to him not explaining his many deductions to me for weeks on end.

"Are you going somewhere?" I now asked as he came out from his room carrying his travel suitcase. My reply came in the form of him taking a letter from his pocket and passing it to me with the usual request that I read it aloud, I could only imagine this was so he could brood over the matter more fully as I read.

Dear Mr Holmes it read

It would be of the greatest assistance to me if you were to kindly sail to America tomorrow, as I have a case that I believe will interest your taste for the unusual that I have so often heard you to possess. The matter is of the greatest delicacy, and there for I am unable to give you a full account in this note, however I should gladly cover any traveling expenses you may incur as well as being extremely generous should you solve my issue. I implore you to come by the 10am ship to Ellis island where I will meet you and present you with the details of the case.

Your sincerely

Sir Randolf composé

"You mean to tell me that you are willing to travel across the Atlantic ocean on an errand in which you know so little about? What If it is a prank?" I asked him looking up.

"In answer to your questions, I do not as you suggest know little of the matter, on observing the style in which the letter I can perceive that it was done so in some agitation, on examining the paper I can see that it is written by someone well-to-do, and lastly, on consulting my books I can support my theory that the man is well off, as I have him down as a highly honorable gentlemen. Now considering the facts that an honorable gentlemen, in a state of obvious agitation has chosen to call in a specialist instead of someone in his own country, and is willing to pay so heavily to do so. Why on earth would I not chose to go Watson?"

"Well when you put it like that Holmes, the whole business does sound rather intriguing" I said passing back the note.

"Excellent! Then you will agree to come with me?"

"Well I wouldn't miss it for the world Holmes. But on the other hand it does sound rather private does it not?"

"I shouldn't worry about that Watson, if this fellows willing to call me in all the way from America then I doubt he is going to turn me down so readily, as my terms remain firm, it is both of us or neither." My heart warmed at his words, and I felt privileged that such a great man should choose to have me by his side, when his usual manner is that of cold isolation from the majority of the human race.

"There is one thing that bothers me about the man however..."

"Whats that?"

"Oh it is probably nothing, you had better go and pack Watson, we leave in a hour" he said now sitting in his armchair while I rushed off to do as he had suggested.

An hour later we found ourselves in a hansom bound for Plymouth. We drove past rolling fields and down quiet country lanes. The tingle of excitement that came with an adventure had now fully set into my bones, and even Holmes seemed restless as he sat by my side looking out to the horizon, where the rising sun had illuminated the green hill tops in the distance. We reached the port just in time to catch our ship, and were shown to our shared room on the lower deck.

Holmes spent most of the journey ether sitting in our room conducting chemical experiments, or else in the games room were he had found a french companion by the name of Mr Échecs, who was a master at chess and gave my friend an opponent of similar capability. Many a day I spent strolling along the deck of the mighty steam launch, looking out at the vast ocean. The waves were calm, the same calm that came before a storm. Their gentle sloshing noise as they rose and fell seemed to whisper of some hidden danger.

It was the third night on the ship, and we were now in the very middle of the Atlantic ocean, a fierce storm had set itself upon the boat so I sat in my room reading, Holmes had gone to inquire about supper being brought down. A few minutes later I heard him return, and a few seconds after that I heard a click from my bedroom door, I walked over to it and was greatly surprised to see that it had been locked. Banging on the door I called out to see if anyone was there, but it appeared that who ever had locked the door had hurriedly left. My shouting was disturbed however, by a sudden violent explosion that came from somewhere else on the ship. The floor shook beneath me and I fell to the ground, something was now definitely wrong and I could hear screams and shouts coming from the other passengers mixed in with the ships alarm sirens.

Holmes POV After being told that supper would be served at 10, I started to head back down to our rooms. I was just passing along the corridor on the first deck when a loud explosion followed by a violent rocking of the ship meant that I was hard pressed to stay on my feet and instead slammed into a near by wall. The ships alarm bells had sounded, meaning that all passengers were to come above board, wondering what had happened I now followed the stream of screaming passengers that were running up the stairs. When on the deck I rushed to the railing and gasped at the scene before me. The entire bow was ablaze and the ship was starting to tilt downwards as water flooded in.

I stood as tall as I could and looked around frantically for Watson, but there were to many people, men pushed though the crowds with their wives and children were being dragged around by the panicked mothers. My ears rang with the sounds of woman's sceams and the ships crew were trying to order the people into groups to be placed on the life boats.

I pushed my way though the crowd calling out for my companion, but he was no where to be seen, by now most people had been piled on to the life boats and only one remained. "Hey you there! Quick get in!" called out one of the crew members as he started to lower the last boat into the water. But I had yet to find Watson. Was it possible that he had already been lowered to safety? No. He would have waited to find me first surly. This left only one conclusion, that for some reason he had not been able to get to deck. I took the only option I saw myself to have and rushed to the stairs, hesitating only briefly I turned around to see my last chance of safety disappearing, but I waved for the man to go on without me as I rushed down the stairs.

Reaching one of the lower decks where our room was situated I now found my self waist deep in water. I entered our rooms "Watson! Watson where are you!" I shouted, in reply there came a loud series of knocking from Watson's bedroom door.

"Holmes! Is that you? Help I'm locked in!" I rushed forwards and tried to open it, but the key was no where to be seen and the pressure of the water meant that my shoulder was no use.

"Watson I can't open it!" I called amidst the rushing sound of the intruding water.

"Go Holmes, for gods sake leave or we'll both drowned!" came Watson's panicked reply.

"I'm not going anywhere Watson! Not until you're out!" but for once in my life I had no idea what to do, the fear that now ran swiftly though my veins did not help. I forced myself to calm, the water was now up to my chest and my eyes darted around the room for some means of help. They came to rest upon my revolver that was sticking out of my coat pocket on the other side of the room. I wadded forward and retrieved it before returning to the door.

"Watson stand back!" I shouted, now aiming it at the lock. I pulled the trigger and the key hole shattered.

Pushing the door once more I was relieved to see that it swung open to reveal my friend. Being shorter then me the water had now risen above his shoulders, and he spluttered as it splashed in his face.

"Quick Watson!" I said said grabbing his sleeve under the water and pulling him towards the door. When in the corridor it now became impossible for us to stand, and we swam towards the stairs. We struggled though the water and at one point I was forced to reach down and pull Watson up by his collar for had fallen beneath the violent surges of liquid that now came upon us in mass.

Finally we reached what little part of the deck remained, there was now no signs of people and the life boats had long disappeared. With a lot of quick thinking I managed to grab hold of a wooden table in one hand and Watson's arm in the other, Watson copied taking hold of the table next to mine as the angle of the boat now sent us flying into the icy sea. For a moment that seemed to take a life time I was held under the salty water, with no way of knowing which way was up and which was down. My only sources of comfort were clutched in each hand. If I had hold of the table then I could not be sinking, and if I had hold of Watson then neither could he. I came to the surface having drunk a lot of water and struggled to remain conscious. A ferocious wave helped push me on top of my floating table. At the same time however, it had pulled Watson from my grasp. With my remaining energy I rolled over to see that thankfully Watson too had managed to get astride his table. This relieving thought was my last before I scummed to the darkness entreating around my eyes.

To be continued...

Please review, I know it was a bit like the titanic but how could it not be? Anyway please say what you think, ideas are also welcome. Thanks for reading!


	2. Found and Lost

Disclaimer:No the characters are not mine, but the island is, so technically their trespassing, but I'll let them off.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed for their comments and advice! I know I can't spell to save my life, but you may have to bear with me. Enjoy!

Holmes

I awoke. It was the morning, and a bright sun beat against my eyes, forcing me to turn my head against the floor. I received a mouthful of sand for my efforts, and this was enough of a surprise to make me pull apart my eyes. I was... on a beach. It took me a while to remember what had happened, but the moment I did, the thought sent a jolt though my spine and I sat bolt upright. Where was I? Where was Watson? Where was anyone for that matter? I stood up shakily and swept a lock of hair from my face, looking around I was greatly surprised to see a thick forest behind me. The table from the night before lay a few paces away. Again I found myself asking the same questions over and over, but one in particular came to mind. Where was Watson? Was it to much to hope that he had survived as well and been carried to the same place? No. The under-currents should have technically carried us both the same way. After a moment of contemplation I decided that if I found the relatively larger table on which I last saw him on, I should find him near by. With this thought in mind I started to walk, following the coast line and remaining ever vigilant.

I had been walking for a quarter of an hour now. Trying hard to suppress the thoughts oppressing upon my mind, for once I was by no means grateful for all my cleverness that was, at present, throwing up facts and figures. For instance the fact that my own survival was due to luck, and the probability was that the fates had not extended the same fortune to my friend. A deep sadness washed over me. If he really was... gone, then I would never forgive my self, nothing would ever be the same.

I was just getting desperate when something caught my eye. A table floating by some rocks just out to sea. I ran forward to the shore-line. was Watson to be found somewhere near the craggy rocks that protruded from the water? I was worth a try, taking off my shoes I walked forward into the sea, the waves lapping at my legs and wetting my clothes that had previously been dried by the sun. I wadded forward, and then began to swim, I was weak, but the thought of my companion keep me going. Reaching the rocks I managed, after some effort that resulted in a grazed knee, to clamber upon one of their slippery surfaces, and I now jumped from one to the other. A large black object attracted my gaze and I ran towards it, almost slipping off the rock as I did so. There, hung limp on top of a particularly pointed rock, was the figure of my Boswell, blood trickling down his face.

Watson

A pain. A sering pain that spread from my hair line all the way down my face. It disorientated me, I lay there, not knowing where there was or how I had come to be there. All I was aware of was the pain, I wanted someone to rescue me, to take me from this place and to take away the terrible throbbing in my head. I became vaguely aware of water, all around me beating against me. I tried to concentrate, no one was coming, I would have to save my self, I tried to move but that proved to be to much of a task and I groaned before laying still once more. I started to remember what had happened after I had jumped from the ship. Holmes had been holding my arm, keeping me from drowning, I had clambered on to the table before passing out, and later had been dragged back into consciousness by a sudden pain that shot though my body as I crashed into something.

A voice now brock though my thoughts, I knew that voice, but from where? It was a comforting sound. And it gentle reassured me that everything was going to be OK. I was not alone after all, I was safe. The person moved me, I didn't know where, I didn't particularly care, my moving made the pain worst however and the familiar darkness entreated around my eyes.

Something cold and comforting was being pressed against my head, the voice now returned, and this time I knew who it was.

"Watson? Watson old chap are you awake? Its me Holmes. Wake up". My body seemed to subconsciously obey the order, and my eyes flickered open.

There was Holmes leaning over me, and for a moment I could swear that I saw a flicker of concern in his gray eyes, but it was soon gone, replaced by the practical eyes in which I was used to.

"Ar good your awake, but try to lay still those rocks have done you quite an injury" He placed his arm around me and held me up while he poured whiskey down my throat. The metal flask tasted of salt as it pressed against my lips, and it was only now that I became fully aware of my surroundings.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Of that I am not entirely certain old friend, it would appear that we are on some island not far from America" he said now removing the wet napkin from my forehead, I was sad to feel it go, but I didn't say anything.

I took me a number of hours leaning against a tree in the shade to fully recover. I had seen, with the help of Holmes reflective flask, the extent of my injuries. And I knew what had to be done, I think Holmes did too, but he left it to me to bring it up in any case.

"Holmes you realise what you are going to have to do?"

"Whats that doctor?" he said, the word doctor showed that he did know what had to be done.

"Well... well I'm not going to be able to stitch up my own head, and it needs doing before infection sets in"

"Watson you do know that I know as much about sowing as I do about the solar system?"

"Yes I do, but we have no chose and at any rate it will teach you something new will it not?"

"Yes, but at the risk of your head" he looked quite serious, and his sentence almost made me want to try my luck at doing it myself, but I continued.

"Come on Holmes its not that hard, and I'll talk you through it" Whilst saying this I removed my small medical kit from my inner pocket, and extracted the needle and thread.

It took about 20 minutes, and hurt far more then it was meant to due to the fact that Holmes, for once, had no idea what he was doing. I did not say any thing about it however, for he would have stopped, so I was forced to bite the inside of my cheek each time he made a mistake. When looking at it though he appeared to have done a better job then I had expected, and I made sure to make a some what over the top congratulation, like you would a child who had finally done their choirs.

"I'm going to scale the island Watson, I wish to know how big it is"

"Shall I come?"

"No, you have only just recovered, and at any rate I need you to stay so I can see where I started from" He left, and I felt a slight annoyance that he did not just use a stick to mark where he had started, did he not believe me capable of the simple task of walking?

In the end I decided I would make myself useful in another way, and started to gather up sticks and branches. I had by no means forgotten by army training, and I was determined to prove it.

Holmes returned just as the sun was begging to set. It was nice to see him again as I couldn't help but start to get lonely after the first few hours, and the sight of another person was reassuring.

"How was your trip?" I asked casually.

"Uneventful Watson, I fear we are the only ones in this desolate place".

"How big would you say it was?"

"I would calculate it at about two miles wide and four miles long, never once did I see any sign of land on the horizon"

"No hope of swimming to safety then?"

"None. Anyway its not for us to dwell, its getting late so we should make shelter soon" I grinned at his words, and he gave me a questioning look.

"No need for that, do you really believe that I have been sitting here doing nothing the whole time you were gone?"

I lead my friend just though the foliage into a clearing, there I had set up camp. A pile of sticks lay In the middle ready to be set alight, and with the help of some large leaves I had found near-by, I had managed to make a small water proof shelter, just big enough for the both of us.

"Watson you exceed yourself" said Holmes, and I could not help but forget all previous anger towards him at his words. Holmes bent down and with the use of some moss and dried sticks, managed, after little effort, to make my pile of sticks set light.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked, with the same surprise written on my face that I always showed when he revealed a new skill.

"My dear Watson, you will remember that I spent a great amount of time amongst tribes in the three years that I posed as the explorer Sigerson? Fire making was to them, as elementary as foot print analyses is to I, it did not take long for me to pick up on the skill"

We were both worn out from our day and went strait to our make shift beds. As we lay there a thought occurred to me.

"Holmes?" I whispered. He grunted to show he was awake.

"Why" I said simply.

"Why what?"

"Why did you come back when you knew there was no chance for me?"

"There's nothing to ask Watson, I know you would do the same for me, it wasn't a hard chose" There was a note of sincerity in his voice which was rarely heard. I turned to face him, but he had fallen asleep.

Waking up it took me a few minutes to remember where I was, according to my watch it was 8.00am but, due to it being filled with water, it was not to be entirely trusted. Turning over I saw that Holmes was not there, so I got up and crawled out into the clearing, looking around I saw no sign of him, and I was just starting to get worried when the familiar voice rang out.

"Watson! Your awake!" It said, and I spun around to see Holmes standing behind me, his arms laden with brightly colored fruit. "Yes I took the liberty of finding breakfast, it was quite a climb to get some of these, but I'm sure it was worth it" and he was right, as usual. The fruit tasted better then any I had ever tasted, not just because they were exotic, but also because I had not eaten in a day.

After eating we both decided to explore some of the vast island. As we walked the shrill cry of animals echoed around us and the sweet vegetation made us want to sneeze. More then once we came across items that could have been made by humans, for example Holmes was convinced that a piece of rock he picked up, had been used as a spear head recently. It looked the same as the others to me. We were about half a mile in when Holmes gave an excited cry.

"There Watson! Did you see? No? Well you stay here I'm going to see if I can find him." It was the word 'him' that had worried me but before I could question it Holmes had ventured off to our right, though some thick foliage, and out of my sight. A few seconds had past when I heard something to make my blood run cold.

"Watson! Watson help me!"

To be continued...

OK its now turned from titanic to lost (the TV show) but as aforesaid how could it not? Please review. Ideas welcome.

Thanks fro reading.


	3. A hot trail to safety

Disclaimer: Holmes and Watson are not mine sobs.

Once again thank you to people who have and will take the time to review, its much appreciated!

And a big thanks to VHunter07!

Enjoy!

Watson:

My feet sprung into action before my mind had time to catch up, and I found myself pushing my way though the foliage into which Holmes had disappeared. I came out into a clearing. If Holmes had been ambushed then this would have been the perfect place for it. Even with his eagle sharp eyes he would not have seen them coming. The question now was which way they had gone. I listened intently but nothing was to be heard, spinning around madly I tried to guess, but was forced to calm down and assess the situation, as Holmes himself would do. It was a few minutes of impatiently glaring at the forest floor before I found that for which I was looking. Footprints. Not of shoes though, of bare feet. From my observations it was clear that there had been around three people. Two lines deeply ploughed into the ground were evidently from my friend being dragged across the ground, presumably unconscious, or I would still be able to hear him.

I crept though the forest, greatly aware that I was myself in danger of being captured if I was not quiet. The thrill of the chase pounded through my veins, and I was forced once again to remember my army training. On one training exercise in Nagpur, my squad and I were placed under simulated battle conditions, and had to navigate our way though the dense forests without being seen or heard by the other group. The techniques used came flooding back into memory as I crept though the foliage. My tracking skills also came in handy as I noticed small signs like broken sticks that pointed me in the right direction.

After a while in pursuit my ears started to pick up voices coming from ahead. They were faint at first, but soon I could hear definite words. Although in what language I could not be certain. I was mere feet away from them now, and as I peered through a gap in a thick wad of leaves it took all my self restraint to stop me from gasping in horror. For there before me was a scene one would only expect to see in a book. Men and women danced around in their traditional clothes singing as they circled a growing fire. A few of their huts stood in an enjoining clearing. The disturbing thing that made me clasp my hand to my mouth however, was the person who was hanging on spit roast stick above the flames. Beads of sweat were already starting to trickle down Holmes' face even though the fire was, for the moment, reasonable small. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, for the smoke was obviously burning hot. Flames licked his white buttoned shirt, and he gave flinches of pain as they came into contact with his skin. Now was the time for quick thinking on my part, one false step and it would mean his life.

I had only a moment to think before acting. I had retained a few dry matches for use in an emergency, and it was with these that I created the detraction I hoped would save my friend. Creeping into the adjoining clearing I struck a match and held it against the straw of one of the huts roofs. Within seconds the whole thing was ablaze and I rushed back to my hiding place to watch the panic unfold. For me it took a lifetime for them to notice. Holmes was now jerking about frantically letting out whimpers as the flames lashed across his chest. Finally one of the natives gave a cry of warning as he saw smoke coming from the other clearing, they all rushed to tend the fire, forgetting their catch. The moment the last person disappeared through the thin layer of trees I sprang out from where I was hiding, and rushed towards my companion. He kept his eyes glued shut as I unbound him, and I couldn't blame him as I struggled to keep my own open to see what I was doing. The heat was overwhelming but I managed to pull him away to safety. He sputtered and coughed, unaware of my presence. I placed his arm around my shoulders and ran, dragging his frail form with me.

I continued to run long after I could no longer hear their cries. A few well placed tree trunks and a small ditch provided ample cover should they return. When laying Holmes down, a large amount of blood leaking from his strewn hair caught my eye. This no doubt, was where they had struck him unconscious so they could carry him back to their camp. I worked feverishly, having only a handkerchief, water and my stitching kit to help me, instead of my usual medical case. He appeared to be unconscious, but would let out a gasp for air every now and then. After soaking the burns and covering them the best I could, I noticed Holmes was starting to wake up and stood back to give him room to breath.

"Watson" he mumbled sitting up, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light.

"Yes its me, you've been burnt quite badly Holmes, I've dressed them the best I could."

"Good old Watson. I presume I was part of some 'Coutume indigène' was I? Ha! The sick cannibals!" I nodded in agreement.

"However, I did hear one, singular point of interest... something they said."

"You speak their language?" I said in astonishment.

"Hardly Watson hardly, nevertheless these south American tribes all have a similar tongue, I was able to pick up on a few words."

"And?"

"And, Watson it would appear that escape does not entirely allude us. Whilst I was there, there was talk of 'the boat' that was apparently to bring them something, though what I could not distinguish."

"And if there's a boat bringing them, supplies presumably, then..."

"Then it must be coming from the main land."

"From America!"

"Indeed, our one problem lies in obtaining a place aboard it, for I do not believe we will be welcome guests having deprived them of their dinner." He gave one of his quick grins.

"Are we to smuggle our way aboard then?"

"I'm afraid it is the only way. And we must act fast for it will be here in the next few days." He stood up, wobbling slightly as he did so. "I'm fine Watson." he said as I shot out my hand to support him. I could tell however, that he would not be climbing trees again in a hurry.

It took only a few hours to prepare and find out where the boat was to come to dock. It also took a great deal of effort on my part for, though he denied it strongly, Holmes struggled to move and breathed as though he had run for miles. Everything was set. We were to lay low until the opportune moment when we would dart out and find cover somewhere below deck. This part of the plan went accordingly and we managed, once some men had disembarked, to run aboard the cargo ship and slip through a trap door without being seen. Finding a place among some old crates with covering. We were almost free from this dreadful place once and for all.

We spent many an hour jammed between the wooden boxes. The swaying of the ship together with the lack of food making us fall ill. By the end of the next day it was becoming unbearable, me with my old wounds and Holmes with his burns meant that neither of us were comfortable by any means. In the end we decided it was best to sneak out in the dead of night when none of the crew were awake, in an attempt to find food. I assumed that I would be going alone, however no sooner was I above deck then Holmes pulled himself up behind me. There was no use arguing with him, and the mixture of fresh air coupled with being able to stretch myself out were too nice a feeling to deny to my friend. Not that I would have been able to at any rate.

We crept silently along the deck towards the supplies room where the food was kept. It was a dirty room and showed quite clearly the result of bringing no women aboard, food had splattered onto the floor and no one had taken the energy to clean it. A set of shelves stood at the back of the room. Boxes of biscuits, rice, soup and other foods stood upon it. It was towards this that we advanced and quietly started to fill our arms. I was just reaching for a loaf of bread when I heard a noise behind me, someone was coming down the steps. "Who's down there?" came a mans harsh voice. Both Homes and I searched around frantically but there was no where to hide.

To be continued...

It will still be exciting even if they're not on the island so keep reading! Please review, I hope you enjoyed.


	4. Sea sick

Disclaimer: Not mine

Im sooooo sorry this one has taken so long, but thank you to everyone who is reading, and an even bigger thank you to those that are reviewing!

Enjoy:

It was too late, and the next moment we found ourselves confronted by a tall blond man in his early 40s, his austere face just visible.

"Who are you?" he growled, but the moment he spotted Holmes his face took on a sudden change "Mr. Holmes!" he cried "What are you doing here?"

"Higgins!" said my friend cheerfully. "Higgins is a friend of mine Watson." He then said in answer to my questioning gaze.

"Your friend Mr. Holmes 'ere, helped me out of a tricky problem a few years back." Higgins said to me, now smiling.

"Elementary Higgins elementary!" said my friend, although he had gone slightly red.

"Well you might think so Mr. Holmes, but I didn't. But what are you doing on my ship?"

"Well that quite a long story, old friend, perhaps we could find somewhere more habitable to tell it?"

After being escorted to the captains' room, and given a most welcome glass of brandy each, we sat and told Higgins our tale. By the end of it his mouth was agape and he took no time in waking the chef to make us something to eat while he prepared a couple of beds. It was hard to say which of the two was more relieving.

I slept on through to morning, but was by no means feeling better when I awoke. On the contrary, I was shaking and sweating. Opening my eyes, I found a man leaning over me with Holmes and Higgins standing behind him.

"Yes it's definitely fever Mr. Holmes, It was right for you to come to me. He needs rest and plenty of water.", came a slightly muffled sounding voice belonging to he who was apparently the ships' doctor.

The next day was insufferable. It brought back vivid memories of when I was recovering from my bullet wound. I tossed and turned in a state of uncontrollable agony. Surprisingly, Holmes stayed by my bedside. He now offered me a drink, but I was feeling so queasy I declined.

"Well, now it's my turn to say it.", he said holding the cup towards my face. "You must drink Watson."

Reluctantly, I took a few sips, my swallowing mechanism seemed not to work, and thus I choked slightly on the liquid. I knew that he would be impossible when he was ill if I refused to drink when I was. It appeared that he delighted in telling me what I was used to saying.

"Through your fever Watson you are losing..."

"...two liters of water a minute." I said, completing his sentence.

He smiled, but not his usual sardonic smile. This one was genuine and somewhat tender for a man such as himself.

"Yes, exactly." He held the cup once more to my lips, while I struggled to remember how to swallow.

A pain shot through my stomach and I was forced to lie down with a slight groan. A wet handkerchief was placed on my head, and brought with it an infinite amount of comfort. Holmes rested his hand on top of it and gently patted away the beads of sweat now running down my face. Such tenderness coming from him was unknown to me. But I presently remembered that this was the first time I found myself ill in his presence, and he made a better nurse then one would expect.

It took me around two days to get over the worst of my illness. Through it all, Holmes remained by my side, showing a level of devotion and loyalty, which was, in his case, often an overlooked quality.

As I slowly regained my strength, walks across the deck became a common occurrence. Holmes stood near in case I should fall. Although he said it was because he needed the air, I had done it enough times myself to know the truth. The way his hand would automatically fly into the air when ever I would give the smallest sign of stumbling, was the give away. On seeing that I was fine he would then find an excuse to use the hand, for example scratching his head.

Our new voyage was bound for New York , for it seems that we had been picked up on a Bermuda Island, not far from our intended destination. By the time that we had reached port, my fever had done its' time, and washed over as though it were never there. Captain Higgins had been kindly enough to lend us some clothing, for our own were now of more use as washing rags then actual garments. I disembarked and found a wall to lean against as Holmes had a few quiet words with the captain. Although curious at the time, the fact that Holmes later pulled out some American money to pay for a cheap inn, told me the nature of their discussion.

We stayed at the converted house for three days whilst, to the best of my knowledge, Holmes made a few private inquiries. I spent the days taking in the sights, for it appeared he had no use for me.

**Holmes POV:**

On managing to obtain temporary lodging for myself and Watson, I set about inquiring into the whereabouts of a certain Randolph Composé. For only he had known we were on that ship and the disaster that had followed was, by no means, an accident. Watsons' door had been locked by another, who had no doubt, expected to trap myself as well, however on finding that I was not there had settled for just one of us. Luckily, my work has brought me as many a friend as it has enemies, and it did not take long to track down a few ex-clients, who, on account of my insistence that they not pay me at the time, were now more then ready to help.

By the second day, however, they had yielded no results. Not a single thread lay in my hand. Naturally, the police were of no use, and were so closed to me that I almost missed my Scotland Yard acquaintances. It was on the third day that a promising bit of information finally came. Mr. Fredrick Arnold, from the case of the Fairground Cripple, which was before Watson's time, came to me saying that his groom had heard of the man and knew where he lived.

I was proceeding with haste to the address given, when a thought occurred to me.

Watson.

Of course, I had rejected his offers to accompany me in my investigation as he had only just recovered from his fever. To go alone to the actual finale, however, was a somewhat depressing thought. He has no doubt mentioned my taste for the dramatic in his narratives, and it was this custom which drew me to bang on the roof of my cab and give instructions to return to the inn.

On returning I found that my companion had gone out. However, I did not have to wait long for his return.

"Watson! Your here!" I said as he walked into the room that I had previously been pacing.

"You've found him haven't you?" he said by way of greeting.

"Am I that transparent?"

"Only when you're on a scent.", he replied with a smile.

"Well yes, I believe I have. Follow me, I'll explain on the way."

It took no more then 30 minutes to reach the address; I spent the time thinking about what to do once there. Should I confront the man? Or should I lay low and watch his moves?

My mind was made up for me, however, when we got there. We entered a large set of iron gates that opened up into a house like a mansion. Creepers seemed to hold it in place, and the only things that distinguished it as a house was small windows that overlooked the large grounds. It was across the said grounds that we were walking when a horse came galloping into view. I recognized the rider in an instant.

Walking forwards with an air of superiority, I found it hard not to grimace with dislike. He had spotted us now, and rode forward. On seeing who we were however his eyes widened in shock.

"You!" he yelled.

"Yes us." I replied, happy at his surprise on finding us alive.

"Your attempts were in vain, and now we shall return you to the place where you belong." I said, provoking the temperamental side of his nature.

Much to my surprise, he raised his horse whip. I raised my arm too late, and the whip flew though the air, striking me across the head. Dazed, I fell to the ground unable to move due to the sudden, searing pain.

Through the blood, I was still able to watch in shock, as Watson let out a cry of rage and ran after the man that was now galloping away. He was fast, and caught up with the man within moments; leaping upwards he caught him by the leg and pulled him from the horse, letting out viscous blows. The mans' groom had run to the scene. Pulling Watson off his master, he helped Colonel Sebastian Moran to his feet, and escorted him to the house as Watson ran to my aid.

Good old Watson.

To be continued...

Thank you for reading so far, and i implore you to review!

(next chapter will come sooner)


	5. A choice of three

**Disclaimer:** No their not mine, but I will accept the responsibility for getting them into such a mess.

Thank you so much to the people who reviewed, and I hope you enjoy:

**Watson:**

Having been filled with a warm indignation I found it hard not to chase after the man being led away and thrash the hide off him! However Holmes was in clear need of medical attention, and I decided to wait until he gave the word to act...for the meantime. Rushing over to him, the ghastly extent of his injuries came quickly to my eyes. Blood trickled down his face, forming a bold line where the whip had left its' mark. He was conscious but, due to confusion and blood spilling in front of his eyes, he still lay where he had fallen.

"Holmes!" I shouted, turning his head so as to better assess his injury.

"Good God man!" I now found myself saying after having quickly drawn away my hands now covered in blood. "Here" I handed him my handerchief, knowing he would rather do it himself then have me fussing over him.

"Wohtthdevlhpend."Was all I heard him mumble, as he thankfully took it from my hand and pressed it against his face. It was scarlet within seconds.

"That brute Moran struck you with his horse whip! I didn't expect such cowardice, even from a man as himself. I tell you Holmes, you just say the word and..."

"No no Watson, that won't be necessary." came his muffled interruption

I helped him to his feet, and was amazed at how quickly he found his balance. I then led him slowly to the hansom waiting just beyond the gates before attending to the wound.

We returned to the inn and I wasted no time in asking the maid to bring up some water and bandages. Holmes sat by the fire, deep in thought as I knelt by him, doing my best to stem the bleeding. After ten minutes of this, I drew back to study my work. He now had a white strip of bandages around his head, coupled with the visible burn marks from our earlier adventures, I couldn't help but give a sigh.

"Surely we should inform the police of this, Holmes? We can't just let the man walk free!"

"Indeed Watson you are probably right." He sighed, this uncharacteristic remark causing me to frown.

"But... of course! I have been a fool!" With that he leapt from his chair. "Quick Watson, in here!" he said signaling, to my surprise, to the wardrobe.

"Are you sure your alright?" I asked, wondering if the blow had some how affected his senses.

"Yes yes Watson, I'm fine! Just get in quickly!" He now said, grabbing me by the arm and leading me to the wardrobe. Somewhat unwillingly, I got inside. If I hadn't have known the man better, I would have thought it a joke. To my even greater surprise he handed me my revolver from the side table.

"This may help your escape." He muttered before shutting the door, leaving me in darkness and confusion. No sooner had he done so, that I heard a knock on the bedroom door. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, surrounded by clothes, I put my eye to the slight gap in between the doors to see who it was. Luckily the small gap was positioned in such a way as to have a commanding view of the room. It took a lot of effort not to burst out of my container when I saw our guest.

It was none other then Colonel Sebastian Moran himself. The nerve of the man! Four men followed in his wake as he strode into the room. From what I could tell with my limited view, Holmes was standing somewhere to the left of my hiding place. I now knew the reasons for him placing me here, he no doubt wanted me to burst out when he gave the signal, that was the reason for revolver, but what of his statement 'This may help your escape'?

My musing was interrupted however, by the colonels' brisk tone that cut through the air, his manner sending a fresh wave of rage through my body.

"Mr Holmes!" he said, as though Holmes were in his residence and not the contrary.

"How nice to see I left my mark on you!" he smirked. Holmes still remained silent. "And where is the good doctor?"

"Out." My friend said simply.

"Without his hat or coat? Oh but it doesn't matter, my boys here will go look for him." With that the four henchmen walked out to look around the house.

Holmes had somehow placed himself in front of the wardrobe, and I could no longer see what was happening. When he moved again I saw that the men had returned and that Moran had now produced a gun. "Nothing? Well then it appears we are alone, no doctor to save you now."

When would Holmes give the signal? Surely soon?

"Go get our friend then." Moran now said to two of the men. They stepped forwards and each grabbed one of Holmes arms. Holmes put up resistance and one of the men dropped to the floor with a bloody nose. The other now placed his broad arm around the detectives' neck while the two remaining men rushed to their aid. Holmes kicked out and struck one of them in the chest, he fell to the floor gasping for air. The black haired man with his arm around Holmes neck now squeezed tighter and Holmes was forced to use his hands to try and release some of the pressure.

The other man still standing took this to his advantage and threw one fist deep into my friends stomach the other striking his bandaged head. The latter seemed to send a fresh wave of pain and confusion over Holmes, while the former left him gasping for breath, now kneeling on the floor. The men had recovered and picked up his limp form leading him towards the door.

I could take it no more, and without waiting for whatever the signal may be, I pushed against the door. It wouldn't open. I threw my full force against it but still it remained shut. Through all the confusion my noisy attempts to escape were not noticed. I stopped as Holmes had started to speak.

"Where are you taking me?" He croaked, the effects of being strangled not having worn off.

"Where am I taking you? Can't you deduce it Mr.Holmes? I suppose it doesn't matter if I tell you. Let's just say I'm taking you to a place which has its conveniences when wanting to dispose of a dead body, although I may decide not to kill you first. Sudden death would be the kind way out!"

With that he burst into manic laughter that reverberated off the walls. They all left the house, leaving me in my wardrobe. I finally understood what Holmes had meant by 'You may need it for your escape'. Aiming my revolver the best I could in the deficient amount of space, I fired two rounds into the lock. Bursting free I took a deep breath before running to the window. The thoroughfare below was deserted.

I had thought Holmes wanted me hidden as a trap, but he had done it because he didn't want me taken as well. This brought a mixture of feelings, on one hand, indignation at the fact I couldn't help, but on the other... he had saved me. He had known I was not what they wanted, he had known they would have shot me, so he had locked me in to keep me from harms way. Moran was wrong when he had suggested Holmes was always saved by his doctor. Now I thought about it, it was usually the reverse. He did it in subtle ways, nevertheless he had saved me more times then I cared to remember, and now I needed to find him, before he was killed, if for any reason then just to say thank you.

I ran down the stairs and hailed a cab, not giving an address but telling him to wait until I had thought of one. He looked shocked at this, perhaps he thought I was joking, but he waited all the same. What had Moran said? 'A place which has its conveniences when wanting to dispose of a dead body.' But where was that? A mortuary? A hospital? A river? Some nagging voice in the back of my head told me I was wrong, but then it must surely be...a graveyard!

"Cabby, drive me to the nearest church!" I cried in such a sudden fashion that he must surely think I was for Bedlam. We rode at break neck speed towards a steeple I could see above the roofs, in the distance. I hoped for Holmes sake that I wasn't erroneous in my conclusions. I was just thinking that perhaps it would be best for me to go to the police, when we pulled up outside the church. After throwing the cabby a few coins, I proceeded to go inside.

Inside was full of flickering candles. The coolness, that seemed to come from the stone itself, sent a shiver down my spine. As in any church one was overwhelmed by the sensation of magic that tingled in the air. You could almost hear the thousands of prayers that had been made, almost see the sad faces at a burial or the jubilant expressions of a marriage. My steps echoed loudly, and I felt I was making some rude intrusion. Was it possible that such a ruthless man as Moran had come here? To this sanctuary of peace and prayer? It was to late now for me to try somewhere else and so I strode across the marble floors towards a door at the far end. Opening it I found myself at the top of a long flight of steps, dimly lit and leading down to an even darker chamber.

Having reached the bottom I peered into the room. Seeing nothing, I struck a match to some candles on the wall. Noticing that they were warm, I decided they must have been used recently. Looking around, I was surprised to see two open coffins, though I was relieved to see they were empty. Three spaces in the dust told me that there had been more, and that they had been recently removed. I walked around the room, stopping to check a dark shape on the floor, finding it to be a length of rope. Then perhaps Holmes had been here, and been tied up? Five sets of footprints around one of the gaps in the dust told me what had happened. Moran's words echoing in my ears 'I may not decide to kill you first' but surely he wouldn't...?

My heart filled with a panic for my friend safety and I ran as fast as my legs could carry towards the graveyard outside. The birds were singing and it seemed although nothing in the world could be wrong on a day like this. In an instance my eyes fell on the three nearest graves. Unlike the others, they were freshly dug and undoubtedly contained the three missing coffins. If Holmes really was in one of them, then his time was running out. I would only have time to dig up one... but which? Forcing myself to be calm, I spent a few moments in thought. Having made my choice, I rushed to collect the shovel laying near-by before starting to dig.

To be continued...

Takes deep breath Well? what do you think? The next chapter will be the last so I hope you've enjoyed! Please review!


	6. A train and a wish to thank

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Disclaimer: Watson, Holmes and Moran do not belong to me, the startled people in the street do._

_VHunter07: I just loved your last review! I must apoligise for: one death from unknown causes, one heart attack, two suicides and three hospitilizations, but I hope they will forgive me now!_

_HelioQueen: I'm sorry I did not make myself clear, the bad guys did not dig three graves they just put Holmes in to a coffin whos occupant was going to be buried anyway. _

_And so we come to the final chapter! I hope you enjoy:_

After only a minute of this, I had made considerable progress. I started to sweat. My arms were aching. Not to mention my old war wounds that were making their presence known, but panic seemed to drive me on. What if I was too late? I would never forgive myself. Dirt was now flying in every direction. I had dug so far I was up to my chest. It was at that moment that I realized I could not handle Holmes' death again. I didn't know if I could go on knowing that I could have saved him.

THUD. My shovel hit something hard, and I removed the remaining dirt to see a large wooden coffin. Using the end of the shovel, I started to pry it open. What if he wasn't in there? Or worse, what if he was there, but was...no, he couldn't be. I pried it open, holding my breath.

A pale dead body met my gaze, his face was a ghastly colour, and he had obviously been dead for some time.

But it wasn't Holmes. This filled me with relief, but also a great sadness. I had picked the wrong grave. I dragged myself out of the hole, not bothering to shut the coffin lid.

I had failed him. Even now he was probably struggling for air in one of the other two graves. But I had no time. A tear fell down my cheek and I started to sob in silence, clasping my face in my hands.

Suddenly, I heard a noise that made my blood run cold. It was a gasping noise, and it was coming from the grave I had just dug up. Slowly, I peered over the edge of the hole, and was amazed at what I saw. Underneath the dead body there was another, very alive one. I could just make out the raven hair and thin face of my friend as he struggled to get out from under the corpse. I had frozen in shock, but came back into action when my friend choked and lay still. Quickly, I lowered my arms into the pit and pulled his limp form out.

He wasn't breathing. I laid him on his back, feeling for a pulse. It was there, feeble, but there. I held my ear over his mouth to listen for any sounds of breathing. There were none. The happiness that had filled me on seeing him alive was replaced once more by panic. I put both my hands on his chest and pushed down hard, his lungs instantly inflated. I continued this process until he was able to breathe again without assistance. His eyes flicked open and he weakly grasped at my collar. "Wasn..." he said faintly.

"Don't speak Holmes, just concentrate on breathing You're alright now, just lay still." I said in my typical doctors' tone. He gave a weak smile.

"Good old Watson." he mumbled. "But I have to talk... Moran."

"Where is he?" I growled.

"Train, he's on the train back to New York."

I stood up at his words, but dropped back down to my knees seeing Holmes was in no state to be left alone.

"Well Watson?" He said, his commanding tone returning. "You just have time, you have to find him."

"But-"

"No, no Watson, I'm fine." he said, sitting up as if to prove his point. "The station's not far from here, just turn right when you reach the florists'."

One found it hard to disobey him, and at any rate I wanted to kill Moran for what he had done.

After gaining Holmes full assurance, I ran out of the graveyard and into the street. I obtained many a curious stare from the locals as they saw an Englishman, covered in dirt, running down the road with a revolver in his hand, and a look of rage upon his face.

As Holmes had said, the station was clearly visible once I had rounded the corner. I could still see the train to New York, but according to the sign outside, I had 10 minutes before it left. I slowed my pace, panting heavily.

Having no intention of staying aboard, I jumped on without purchasing a ticket. The train was practically empty, so Moran should be easy to find. Walking down the narrow passageway, I made sure to check each compartment before passing. I knew however, that I would not find him here. Such a man would require a sumptuous compartment, and I had no doubts of finding him in the upper class section. Just as I had surmised, I looked past a door adorned with a large gold-lettered '1st' sign, only to see the man who had caused me so much pain, both mental and physical.

I took a short time in observing him. At close range, I could tell the man had let himself go over the past few years. His face was blotched with a red that spoke only of drink, and though a fierce pride shone in his eyes, one was able to see past the facade and find only the lonely life the hunter had lived.

He turned suddenly to look straight at me, and the emotion of pity I had almost felt for the brute was oppressed by a urge to throttle him. I stepped inside, acting more brave then I felt. He stood up, and for once, I took in just how large the man was. Memories flashed through my mind of the case of the empty house, and I watched again as the man before me overpowered my friend with ease. However, It was the memory of finding Holmes buried alive that drove me to speak.

"You." I spluttered.

"Yes, my dear Doctor." He said, in an annoyingly calm voice.

"You almost killed-"

"Now, now Doctor, you must understand that I had no intention of killing you, my man on the boat failed miserably but he has paid the price for his blunder."

"I was going to say Holmes."

"Ah yes, the great detective. So he is alive? Oh well, I'll simply shoot him next time." His words shot a wave of fury through me. Before I knew what I was doing, I had raised my revolver and pulled the trigger.

A deafening 'CLICK' echoed through the compartment as I realised, too late, that I had forgotten to reload.

The train jerked into movement, and I was taken by surprise. Seeing his opportunity, Moran went for his gun that was sticking out of a pocket in his coat. I saw his intentions just in time to lash out with my arm and send the firearm hurtling across the carriage. He grabbed my lapels in fury and forced me into the wall.

Something animistic took hold of me, and I found my fist crashing against the left side of his face. Moran was obviously shocked at the force of the blow for he hunched over in a frozen state. The initial surprise did not last long, however, growling in fury he seized my arm and threw me towards the open window. I managed to steady myself in time, but Moran had other ideas as to when I should leave the train. Picking me up off the floor he forced half my body out the window.

A heavy wind struck my face, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. Moran had his hand on my throat and was tightening it painfully. I could see the blur of houses and trees as they flashed past.

Was this how I was destined to end? Hanging from a carriage window with a madman at my throat? Once again a surge of energy passed through me, as the urge to survive that has always governed man, took its hold. Without a thought, I subconsciously released myself from the rules of fair fighting, and my knee came into contact with a...rather painful area of the male anatomy. I was let go instantly and fell back onto the floor, gasping for air.

I looked up. The barrel of Moran's gun was pointing down at me.

"Well Doctor, however hard you struggled, I have come out victor. And now I am afraid you must die. Do not worry, your dear friend the detective will not be long after you. Goodbye, Dr. Watson."

My last thought before the gun discharged was that I had not said thank you to my dearest friend. That I had never voiced my thankfulness for his friendship, now I would never have the chance to do so.

The report echoed throughout the carriage.

I opened my eyes. I was not dead. Looking up, my jaw dropped at the sight that met me. Moran still stood in the same place as before, his eyes wide open, and a red splatter of blood issuing from a bullet hole in his head. He fell to the floor. Dead. Still looking where he had stood, my battered friend came into my view. He was standing in the doorway with his gun still raised, covered in dirt and in the worst state I have ever seen him.

"Well Watson, I think we should be returning to London, don't you?" He smiled weakly.

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**221b Baker Street**

It had been a month since the occurrence on the train. Holmes had just returned from his (what he liked to call) 'forced imprisonment' at the city hospital. I had not been hurt badly on our adventure, and needed only a quiet four weeks of being tended to by Mrs. Hudson. I was feeling well rested and recovered.

I have to admit that a smile broke across my face when I saw Holmes walking back into our rooms, looking much better then when I had last seen him.

"Hello again, old friend." he said.

"Good evening, Holmes." I replied, both of us trying not to show the happiness that we felt on seeing each other again.

Holmes walked straight to the Persian slipper hanging on the mantel, and removed a... more then ample amount of shag tobacco. Lighting his pipe, he slouched into his usual arm chair, and shut his eyes. We sat in silence. After a while I opened my mouth to ask how his stay at the hospital was, however he cut in before I could speak.

"I was wondering if you could tell me something, Watson."

"Anything you like my dear fellow." I said in surprise.

"How did you know which grave I would be in?" he said in a forcefully casual manner. I savoured the feeling for a moment. I am almost sure that no else has ever had the privilege of being asked for an explanation by Sherlock Holmes, and I am equally sure that it would be the last time he asked me.

"Well it was quite simple really." I said. "I observed the footprints around the three graves. You see, to carry a dead body in a coffin requires only two people, but when I saw no less then four sets of footprints around one grave, I knew that the occupant of the coffin must have been making the job of carrying it considerably harder."

Holmes chuckled."You are right, I did not go down without a fight, quite literally. But I congratulate you on your deduction."

"I learned from the best." I replied, though turning slightly red. "But Holmes, what about you and the train?"

"Oh, I sat for a while after you left me, but I couldn't resist missing out on the final act. I followed, luckily the train was only just leaving and I managed to jump on. I passed your carriage just as Moran was saying his cliché goodbyes, so I made my choice and shot the fiend."

"And one more thing Holmes." I said.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

THE END

I must request that everyone who has read this story reviews, even if its just to say you read it! Goodbye and thank you so much for reading!

Big thank you to VHunter07 who helped with the editing, your great! Also to Susicar (possibly the nicest person in the world), moonlitpuddle, KB, Igiveup, La Suka and Timelady42, for their regular reviews!


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